This past weekend, I ended up doing an exercise my therapist had recommended because I was having a panic attack over a final paper I had to write for one of my classes. I'm smart, and I knew the material, and I had a high grade in the class; however, I was completely freaked out feeling inadequate to the task, as though anything at all I did would cause me to fail. I've experienced this panicky paralysis before, many times, and my therapist suggested that this time, I sit with it and ask what was making me feel that way.
I shouldn't feel inadequate, but I do. It comes from a long history of being treated with prejudice and with ugly assumptions based on stereotypes that were quite hurtful. It started with my mother, who could not allow me to enjoy feeling good about anything I did academically because to her it wasn't sufficiently feminine. Of course, her ideas of what was feminine were sunk in the Deep South of the early 20th century, not the 1970s, but I was the target of comments like, "Why can't you study something more feminine?" and "Enough about your master's degree. When are you going to settle down and get your Mrs. degree?" Since I was focused on physics and mathematics as my main subjects, that simply wasn't going to work. And since I'm very intelligent and hadn't really met a man who could keep up with me at that point, the Mrs. degree wasn't even on the radar.
Add to that a profound sense of gender dysphoria—I never really felt that I was male, but I couldn't stand being female. Everything about my body's changes as I had matured in my teens horrified me, and people's reactions to me simply because of the shape of my body aggravated me no end. I wasn't interested in the kinds of things that other girls talked about, and they generally didn't or couldn't talk to me about things that interested me. I felt extremely alienated from everyone around me, to the point that I wrote a column for the student newspaper in college from the point of view of an alien viewing college culture of the time.
Moving from college to work was a mistake, one pushed onto me by my mother and aunt, and one that I knew I shouldn't have done even as I allowed myself to be forced into it. I became an engineer for the phone company, in a group of male engineers who really didn't want a female peer in their group. My boss, in particular, made every effort he could to drive me off of my job, giving me assignments he would never have given to one of the male engineers, and then laughing when I got into trouble. There was a lot more, and I fought it, but eventually I left Mobile for other reasons as well.
My next boss asked me in the interview if I was a feminist, which at the time was a radical notion with the bra burners and Gloria Steinhem holding forth. I said that I wasn't, but the truth was that my treatment among my colleagues was pushing me that way fast. And working as an engineer was making me feel even more inadequate because there were so many things for which I was unprepared; my background in physics and math was enough to get in the door, but I knew nothing about wiring circuits or testing electronics. I was expected to do so as part of my job, but no one offered to teach me. So I went back to school to begin trying to learn how to be adequate as an engineer.
I got married around this time to an intelligent man who worked for the space program up at Cape Canaveral, and who persuaded me to come work there, too. It was a job as a computer programmer; again, I was hired based on my background in physics and math, not any particular computer skills I might have. Again, I was placed in a situation where I felt inadequate—and my husband fed off of it, "helping" me, so that he could feel more adequate himself. He had a desperate need to not just prove he was the smartest person in the room, but to rub anyone else's nose he could in the fact. It was the beginning of 15 years of hell for me.
We moved back up to northwest Florida, an area enough like Mobile, AL, that I was concerned about how people would treat me as a fellow engineer. I was right to be concerned. The men on the job we'd been hired to fill immediately tried to shuffle me off to a minor programming position, then I moved to a job that supposedly would have used my skills in math and physics, but which turned out to be a continual fight with the technicians and my peers over competence, and the mere fact that I was female in their environs.
I've heard African Americans describe being badly treated because of the color of their skins, and I empathize because I know bad treatment simply because of the shape of my body. I've had people put me down, play pranks on me, and at its worst, throw a cup of liquid nitrogen at me simply to see me jump. I've been told that I was inadequate to do my job (when that was not actually the case), and eventually pushed off on another job I didn't want because the people I worked with didn't want me. My husband was silent through all of this torture, except to complain that it was my problem, something I was doing wrong. He continued to do so until the company did something that ticked him off, then suddenly he was looking for another job.
I was becoming radicalized as a feminist simply because of the mass of bad treatment I had been receiving simply because of my shape and the areas in which my brain worked. I also had gone back to school again because my husband and the other programmers around me often made me feel inadequate because I didn't know the same things they did. I kept at it until I got my master's degree, and suddenly knew more than they did. It didn't always help the feelings of inadequacy, but I could put the degree up in my workspace to show them that, yes, I did know what I was doing.
I became very aggressive in protecting myself from slights and slurs on my being female. I didn't put up with anyone (except my husband, who I couldn't avoid), but my attitude didn't win me a lot of friends either. I had reached the point some feminists did back then of having a real chip on my shoulder, and underneath it all was a growing exhaustion of having to deal with this at all, since I never felt like I was feminine to start with. Or, at least, that being feminine had anything to do with the person I felt myself to be.
About that time, I found about about the possibility of being transgendered. It struck me that it felt right—I didn't feel female, and here was an alternative. But most of the female-to-male (FTM) transsexuals I met said they knew they'd been male all along, which had not been my experience. I hadn't known I was male; I'd simply been uncomfortable with the idea of being female. So I went through years of therapy trying to sort out whether I really was transgendered or not. It didn't help that I was really short—5'2"—and didn't want to trade one set of prejudices for another.
This was also the time when I went through priestess training, and became a hierophant in the Fellowship of Isis. At the time, I didn't think too much about the fact that the group I was in was strongly dominated by women, such that the main group meeting every full Moon was limited to women only. The guys were only welcome on the solar festivals, which now seems strange. Moreover, while I was told to open myself to being called by the Goddess for the priesthood and did so, nothing prepared me for the fact that I was called by more than Goddesses. One of the beings who made it clear that I was his priestess at the time was Odin, and I couldn't even discuss it with my mentor because we weren't dealing with the Gods.
As I continued to learn and grow on the pagan path, I found myself more frequently in contact with specific Gods and Goddesses from different pantheons than with a generic Goddess and God as in Wicca. So I never went down that specific path, but felt I was working a more shamanic path being open to the gods who needed my services at a given point. I'm a strong channel, and have been the body or horse for many different beings, gods, goddesses, and other. My lack of investment in my gender, and in my body in general, has made it easy for me to slip aside and let them speak through me without having to be present.
Finally, when I was almost 50, after years of therapy and consideration, I chose to transition to male. Again, I did it more for comfort than out of a strong feeling of masculinity; I simply was miserable being female and being perceived as female. It didn't change a thing about who I am inside, but it did change how people react to me and interact with me. For one thing, I rarely encounter the projection of inadequacy anymore because people assume that as male, I must know what I'm doing. It freaks me out—I'm still me. But there is a sharp change to how people react to me.
And I find that I'm more aware of the ways in which people in the pagan movement—the one place where we'd think we'd all be safe from prejudice and rejection—treat one another. I certainly have no problem with a group who wants to meet along gender lines, as long as they don't force that onto others at a large public gathering. Moreover, I would like to see a lot more sensitivity to gender variant and sexually variant people in paganism, as was the case in the old pagan world. We certainly don't "choose" to be different; it's a function of being different and eventually choosing to express who we really are rather than hiding behind some mask.
If a male-to-female (MTF) transsexual tells you that she is female identified, please respect that. She's not trying to steal your genetic female magic thunder, she is truly struggling to cope with having been born in the wrong shaped body. She identifies as female because that's what she is, regardless of the secondary sexual characteristics that she loathes and find confusing. Similarly, if an FTM tells you he identifies as male, respect that because he genuinely feels he's not female no matter what his body may have looked like most of his life.
Transitioning doesn't change out experiences, though, and I remain an ardent feminist. But I've also grown beyond that, toward seeking equality for all people. I find it incomprehensible when people reject my help or fellowship because I'm not the same color, or religion, or sex, or ethnic group, or whatever that they are. It is especially ugly when they try to tell me I cannot comprehend their experience of being treated with prejudice. Really? They should walk a mile in my shoes and then revisit that statement.
I know from my own experience that other women have been hurt by the long struggle for equality and consideration in our Western culture. Some need to work only with other women because the damage runs deep. But we need to open our hearts a bit and realize we're not the only people who have been hurt, and begin to reach across the artificial lines we've drawn to others who are hurting too. Only then can we begin to heal.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Running with Sekhmet
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| Two forms of Sekhmet |
I have learned a meditation for running with Sekhmet, which allows me to release rage, pain, anger, hatred, and other negative emotions in which we all get tangled from time to time. The advantage of running with Sekhmet is being able to turn these negative emotions over to Her, knowing that She will see that divine justice is served accordingly. Once released, I no longer have to carry the negativity because I know that karma will take care of whatever caused me such pain.
To run with Sekhmet, visualize the savannah of Africa. It is hot, fiery summer, with the long grass fading to golden. You find Sekhmet lounging in the shade of a banyan tree, waiting for you to join Her.
You find that your body shifts to leonine form, matching Sekhmet’s. A sense of power and control runs through you, helping you to control the emotions raging through you and bringing joy in their wake. You roar your request to Sekhmet to take the negative emotions from you, and turn them into karmic justice appropriate to their cause. In your roaring, you release the negative energy, and watch its red fire flow into Sekhmet’s eyes.
She brushes by you, a big cat acknowledging one of Her pride. You brush back, feeling the love She has for you, and a sense of peace comes over you. She huffs at you—a lion smile—and takes off into the grass. You follow, running to keep up with Her. You feel the fire of the Sun beating down on you, burning off the negative energies you carry, and filling you with light, power, and control.
Sekhmet shines brighter than the Sun, and you realize that you are shining also. The eye of Ra is upon you, and you realize that you are also a daughter or a son of Ra, as is Sekhmet. You, too, carry divine justice within yourself, and the working out of karma is part of what you are present in the physical world to accomplish. Sekhmet turns Her fiery eyes upon you, and acknowledges the link that you have with Her.
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| You are the lion, Child of Ra! |
As lions of fire, as a pride of power, you run through the savannah with Sekhmet. Joy fills your heart as you realize She loves you, Ra loves you, the Universe loves you. Peace settles over you, and your Heart is clear and whole again. The negative emotions that you carried have lifted from you, like fog is burned away by the warmth of the Sun.
You have returned to the banyan tree, to the cooler shade where you began your run. You lay in the long grass, panting from the exertion, the heat, and the transformation. Sekhmet rubs Her cheeks against yours, welcoming you to your Great Pride. You relax, and rest in the shade of peace and power.
When you are ready, you return to your natural form, and return to awareness of the physical world. The peace, joy, and power stay with you, as does the regard of the Goddess Sekhmet and Her father, Ra. Go out into the sunshine, and sing praises to the Goddess and God, and feel the powerful warmth of the Sun fill your being. You are healed of the negative emotions that were tearing you down.
You now know that you can trust in the universe to work out the karma, as it needs to happen. You are no longer tangled in its web, but a piece of the puzzle of how it works out in the world. You are a powerful being, with strength to let things go that do not serve your spiritual growth. Roar your joy to the Sun, and be at peace.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Good days and bad days
Life changes when you are disabled—and I don't mean the obvious fact of your disability. Your life constricts; not only can you not do many of the things you used to define yourself by, but you're faced with managing a life over which you have very little control. For many, the first thing they do on awakening is check in to their bodies and try to figure out what sort of day this will be. On the good days, we may be fairly normal, able to leap small buildings at a single bound. On the good days, one of the hardest things is to fight the temptation to do *everything* one has gotten behind on during the bad days. After a while, we know that doing such a thing—overdoing to "make up"—results in many more bad days than good.
The bad days, though, those are terrifying. They're unpredictable; you cannot use time management to schedule Tuesday as a "bad day" when you will be out of commission. You figure it out when you wake up in the morning, and adjust your expectations from there. Although I'm sleeping through most of the night lately—for the first time in years—I'm waking up in my usual manner, when the pain from sleeping in one position or another gets so bad I can't sleep any more. Waking up in intense pain is often a signal this is going to be a tough day, which is a good thing because I can begin to adapt.
Our Western culture, particularly in America, tries to celebrate the idea of the disabled person who overcomes massive disability to do something great, like the paraplegic who climbed Mt. Everest. Those stories move people to think the human spirit is so strong that it can overcome anything—but it can also crush your soul when you realize you don't have it in you to climb out of bed on the bad days. The other problem is that people around you tend to apply the myth of overcoming the disability to you, making expectations of you that you simply can never meet. And then they are disappointed in you for not meeting their expectations, blindly ignoring the daily struggle you go through simply to manage well enough.
It's not so bad for people with obvious disabilities, where people can readily see the impairment the disability brings to the individual suffering them. Although pity can be even more corrosive than disappointment, when you get right down to it. Most of us would rather have understanding and help, freely offered, than to be pitied. Even when I recognize that it's a defense mechanism people use to pretend that such things cannot happen to them, it's corrosive.
But when your disability is invisible, or is composed of a bunch of things that interact such that your days are manageable only by sorting through a "laundry list" of possibilities, the situation gets much worse. You try to be normal, to do things on the good days like everyone else, and to meet their expectations—and on the good days, you can. But then you wake up and know its going to be a rough one, and expectations have to shift—but the people around you, who cannot see your disability, simply don't understand that you're doing your absolute best to manage.
I got in trouble teaching for the University of Phoenix for just this problem. I could manage posting and working with students, grading papers, and all the other work of a teacher 4 days out of 7, but not 5. The contract said 5, and they use a computer program to monitor how many days you post and do certain activities—and despite the fact that on my 4 good days out of 7 I was generally getting my work done, I wasn't meeting the metric. So I got told I needed better time management skills, and to take training to do better. And I'll admit that I did learn some things, but not anything that I can use directly in the face of the bad days—which I cannot predict because they don't happen on a schedule.
I eventually had to quit that job because I could never live up to their expectations, and they would not work with me within the limits of what I could do—they had their computer program and if I failed a tick of the metric, I was in trouble and needed to fix whatever it was that caused me to screw up. I can't live that way—wish I could—but it doesn't work in the face of good/bad days.
Moreover, I've been getting worse, with more bad days than good lately. In addition to all the pain conditions that can overwhelm me with sheer agony, making it hard to move or do anything, in August I was diagnosed with several areas of brain damage and a blocked artery in the brain. Well, that surely explains some of the horrible headaches I've been having, such as the 5 1/2 week one in October of 2010. You try functioning in a strictly metered job environment when you're head is splitting, your vision is blurry and doubled, and you get exhausted quickly trying to do anything at all. It doesn't happen. And then everything cascades down on you into financial and other difficulties that may be too hard to get free of anytime soon.
Thing is that I really don't know what the ramifications of my current problems are, and that is terrifying, especially when things suddenly take a turn for the worse. A few weeks ago, the problem I have of not getting enough oxygen to my brain got so bad that I started slurring my words like I was severely drunk—without the pleasure of being able to enjoy getting there. I'm still waiting to get in to see a neurologist to find out if anything at all can be done—I go down to UCSF on the 17th of January, hopefully to get some ideas of what we can expect and maybe fix—and the headache and confusion, speech slurring and sheer exhaustion of fighting it all is taking its toll. You know you're in trouble when your doctor is scared.
We've been trying an experiment with Imitrex, to see if it will open up the blood vessels in the brain to get more oxygen through, and it seems to help when I'm at the worst point in all this. But I'm still finding myself essentially tethered to the oxygen machine, or carrying tanks around trying to get things done. My disability is now quite visible, but I'm still largely on my own for getting things done. People just want to know when I'll get better, something I'm not sure of at all.
My friends and acquaintances do care, and want to help me any way they can. On the bad days, I need physical help, and unfortunately, live to far from anyone who might help me that way. It's one of the downsides of living alone with cats; there's no one to help you out. Although the sheer resentment I've encountered from some of my caregivers when I have had someone to help has often been horrific. People get burned out on giving care to someone who is chronically ill, and whose good days makes them seem almost normal.
What gets me through it all is my sense of humor. I rage, and I despair; I fight the depression that goes along with chronic pain and uncertainty. I do the best that I can, and try not to beat myself up on the bad days. It is what it is, and I can only do what I can, even when that fails to meet the expectations of others. It's hard enough to adjust my own expectations to match whatever is happening today.
Yesterday was a really bad day, when the mental confusion and the slurring speech was worse than usual. I finally broke down and took medicine late in the day, and I had to spend most of it on oxygen. The problem is that I feel fine on oxygen, but rapidly begin to falter as soon as I go off of it. And because I'm less active, the other disabilities—the chronic pain ones—kick up so that I woke today clearheaded, but hurting enough that it will be a while before I go back to sleep. So I'm writing instead, trying to explain the unexplainable.
Some of you will dismiss what I'm saying as whining, thinking that you would do a much better job managing your disability than I am. That's your fear speaking, for by denying what I'm going through you mentally make the case that it would not happen to you. I've seen it over and over, and I really hope nothing ever does happen to you that would cause you to understand me. I have more compassion than that.
Others of you will feel sorry for me, but don't pity me. Recognize that I'm struggling to do the best that I can, sometimes in the face of considerable odds, fear, and despair. Help me to laugh—that really is the best medicine. Try not to get compassion fatigue; my disabilities are not going anywhere anytime soon, I hope. Of course I'd love it if someone could wave a magic wand and they'd go away, but that's a fantasy. And pursuing endless fantasy treatments just ends up costing me what little is left of my money.
All I ask is patience. On the bad days, I may not even reach out to anyone because I know that it gets old. I don't get better, and compassion fatigue sets in. On the good days, I reach out and seem normal. But as things shift to more bad days than good, I really appreciate it when people reach back to me, even if I'm not in good shape to talk to them, or in the best of moods, or happy, or whatever. It keeps me alive because I know that people do care, and that I've not been abandoned because I've failed to live up to expectations—mine and yours.
As to the future, we shall see. I'm in the undiscovered country, where I don't even know the landmarks, much less the terrain. All I can do is go from day to day and try to cope. And remember to laugh. Silly cat antics help. So do friends.
Much love,
Michael
The bad days, though, those are terrifying. They're unpredictable; you cannot use time management to schedule Tuesday as a "bad day" when you will be out of commission. You figure it out when you wake up in the morning, and adjust your expectations from there. Although I'm sleeping through most of the night lately—for the first time in years—I'm waking up in my usual manner, when the pain from sleeping in one position or another gets so bad I can't sleep any more. Waking up in intense pain is often a signal this is going to be a tough day, which is a good thing because I can begin to adapt.
Our Western culture, particularly in America, tries to celebrate the idea of the disabled person who overcomes massive disability to do something great, like the paraplegic who climbed Mt. Everest. Those stories move people to think the human spirit is so strong that it can overcome anything—but it can also crush your soul when you realize you don't have it in you to climb out of bed on the bad days. The other problem is that people around you tend to apply the myth of overcoming the disability to you, making expectations of you that you simply can never meet. And then they are disappointed in you for not meeting their expectations, blindly ignoring the daily struggle you go through simply to manage well enough.
It's not so bad for people with obvious disabilities, where people can readily see the impairment the disability brings to the individual suffering them. Although pity can be even more corrosive than disappointment, when you get right down to it. Most of us would rather have understanding and help, freely offered, than to be pitied. Even when I recognize that it's a defense mechanism people use to pretend that such things cannot happen to them, it's corrosive.
But when your disability is invisible, or is composed of a bunch of things that interact such that your days are manageable only by sorting through a "laundry list" of possibilities, the situation gets much worse. You try to be normal, to do things on the good days like everyone else, and to meet their expectations—and on the good days, you can. But then you wake up and know its going to be a rough one, and expectations have to shift—but the people around you, who cannot see your disability, simply don't understand that you're doing your absolute best to manage.
I got in trouble teaching for the University of Phoenix for just this problem. I could manage posting and working with students, grading papers, and all the other work of a teacher 4 days out of 7, but not 5. The contract said 5, and they use a computer program to monitor how many days you post and do certain activities—and despite the fact that on my 4 good days out of 7 I was generally getting my work done, I wasn't meeting the metric. So I got told I needed better time management skills, and to take training to do better. And I'll admit that I did learn some things, but not anything that I can use directly in the face of the bad days—which I cannot predict because they don't happen on a schedule.
I eventually had to quit that job because I could never live up to their expectations, and they would not work with me within the limits of what I could do—they had their computer program and if I failed a tick of the metric, I was in trouble and needed to fix whatever it was that caused me to screw up. I can't live that way—wish I could—but it doesn't work in the face of good/bad days.
Moreover, I've been getting worse, with more bad days than good lately. In addition to all the pain conditions that can overwhelm me with sheer agony, making it hard to move or do anything, in August I was diagnosed with several areas of brain damage and a blocked artery in the brain. Well, that surely explains some of the horrible headaches I've been having, such as the 5 1/2 week one in October of 2010. You try functioning in a strictly metered job environment when you're head is splitting, your vision is blurry and doubled, and you get exhausted quickly trying to do anything at all. It doesn't happen. And then everything cascades down on you into financial and other difficulties that may be too hard to get free of anytime soon.
Thing is that I really don't know what the ramifications of my current problems are, and that is terrifying, especially when things suddenly take a turn for the worse. A few weeks ago, the problem I have of not getting enough oxygen to my brain got so bad that I started slurring my words like I was severely drunk—without the pleasure of being able to enjoy getting there. I'm still waiting to get in to see a neurologist to find out if anything at all can be done—I go down to UCSF on the 17th of January, hopefully to get some ideas of what we can expect and maybe fix—and the headache and confusion, speech slurring and sheer exhaustion of fighting it all is taking its toll. You know you're in trouble when your doctor is scared.
We've been trying an experiment with Imitrex, to see if it will open up the blood vessels in the brain to get more oxygen through, and it seems to help when I'm at the worst point in all this. But I'm still finding myself essentially tethered to the oxygen machine, or carrying tanks around trying to get things done. My disability is now quite visible, but I'm still largely on my own for getting things done. People just want to know when I'll get better, something I'm not sure of at all.
My friends and acquaintances do care, and want to help me any way they can. On the bad days, I need physical help, and unfortunately, live to far from anyone who might help me that way. It's one of the downsides of living alone with cats; there's no one to help you out. Although the sheer resentment I've encountered from some of my caregivers when I have had someone to help has often been horrific. People get burned out on giving care to someone who is chronically ill, and whose good days makes them seem almost normal.
What gets me through it all is my sense of humor. I rage, and I despair; I fight the depression that goes along with chronic pain and uncertainty. I do the best that I can, and try not to beat myself up on the bad days. It is what it is, and I can only do what I can, even when that fails to meet the expectations of others. It's hard enough to adjust my own expectations to match whatever is happening today.
Yesterday was a really bad day, when the mental confusion and the slurring speech was worse than usual. I finally broke down and took medicine late in the day, and I had to spend most of it on oxygen. The problem is that I feel fine on oxygen, but rapidly begin to falter as soon as I go off of it. And because I'm less active, the other disabilities—the chronic pain ones—kick up so that I woke today clearheaded, but hurting enough that it will be a while before I go back to sleep. So I'm writing instead, trying to explain the unexplainable.
Some of you will dismiss what I'm saying as whining, thinking that you would do a much better job managing your disability than I am. That's your fear speaking, for by denying what I'm going through you mentally make the case that it would not happen to you. I've seen it over and over, and I really hope nothing ever does happen to you that would cause you to understand me. I have more compassion than that.
Others of you will feel sorry for me, but don't pity me. Recognize that I'm struggling to do the best that I can, sometimes in the face of considerable odds, fear, and despair. Help me to laugh—that really is the best medicine. Try not to get compassion fatigue; my disabilities are not going anywhere anytime soon, I hope. Of course I'd love it if someone could wave a magic wand and they'd go away, but that's a fantasy. And pursuing endless fantasy treatments just ends up costing me what little is left of my money.
All I ask is patience. On the bad days, I may not even reach out to anyone because I know that it gets old. I don't get better, and compassion fatigue sets in. On the good days, I reach out and seem normal. But as things shift to more bad days than good, I really appreciate it when people reach back to me, even if I'm not in good shape to talk to them, or in the best of moods, or happy, or whatever. It keeps me alive because I know that people do care, and that I've not been abandoned because I've failed to live up to expectations—mine and yours.
As to the future, we shall see. I'm in the undiscovered country, where I don't even know the landmarks, much less the terrain. All I can do is go from day to day and try to cope. And remember to laugh. Silly cat antics help. So do friends.
Much love,
Michael
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Darwin's theory and proof
I wrote this post in response to a discussion in my Philosophy of Research class, and thought I would share it with you.
“The struggle with Darwin's theory is that it makes claims that are not easily falsifiable. Is there a way to test Darwin's assumptions?”
This is actually an outdated perspective promoted by the intelligent design movement. When Darwin originally propounded the theory of evolution, the mechanisms by which natural selection operated were not known, and so his opponents objected that his theory was not falsifiable. In fact, one of the principle objections to his theory is the idea that certain elements of organisms present “irreducible complexity,” that is, they cannot operate at all if you remove even one element from them (Miller, 2008).
However, advances in earth sciences, paleontology, molecular biology, and genetics have refuted this attitude in nearly every case. The fossil record, for example, is filled with examples of intermediate species at every stage of life’s history. “The earliest reptiles look remarkably amphibian-like, and the earliest mammals are actually known informally as the ‘reptile-like mammals.’ They were preceded by a group called the ‘mammal-like reptiles’ lest the point be missed. Within other groups of organisms the pattern is even more evident, especially for animals in the more recent past, for which the fossil record is more complete” (Miller, 2008, p. 47).
The evolution of the horse family is a good example, evolving over the past 55 million years from a group of relatively small animals that browsed on vegetation through 30 million years of diversifying into many species to include modern horses, donkeys, and zebras. The irony is that all of the remaining species of horse fit into a single genus, Equus, and the diversity of the past have died out as various species failed to adapt. Many attempts appear in the record, but only one ended up as adaptive. Multiply this by the many other species of mammals, reptiles, birds, insects, plants, and so forth, and the idea that a designer had any intent involved in the final forms becomes ridiculous (Miller, 2008).
We see evolution in action in the resistance various parasites and diseases evolve to the drugs we use to treat them. For example, Plasmodium, the parasite that causes malaria, has evolved a resistance to chloroquinine, the main drug used to treat the disease. Similarly, some humans who live in malaria-prone areas have evolved a resistance to the parasite (Miller, 2008). (Sickle-cell anemia provides a degree of protection against malaria, giving those with it an adaptive advantage when living in malaria-prone environments. It only becomes a disease when those people move to areas where malaria is no longer a problem.)
Another example of evolution observed in action involved a species of moth in England during the Industrial Revolution. The species originally had white wings with spots, but as the smoke from coal fires darkened the wood of trees where the moths lived and other surfaces they lit upon, being white was no longer adaptive. They were gradually replaced by a dark-winged variant that blended more effectively with the background. This variant remained the dominant form of the moth until efforts to clean up the environment got underway in the 1960s and 70s, at which point the moth reverted to its white-winged form, which was once more adaptive.
Molecular genetics have begun solving problems such as the origins of clotting factors in the blood, and the flagellum on a number of different kinds of bacteria, identifying precursors of the components of the systems in older species. Most proteins in cells are used for more than one purpose, so this really shouldn’t be surprising. Laboratory experiments are showing more and more how the genetic code can reshuffle itself and allow new forms to arise—the ability of antibodies to adapt to new diseases is one example of this (Miller, 2008).
The bottom line is that we have many ways of testing Darwin’s assumptions. The fossil record is only one. Molecular genetics, analysis of proteins, the study of related animals and plants, and the co-evolution of predators and prey are just some of the many examples. Evolution is no longer merely a theory that has no structure to permit testing; it is the basis of the explosion of methods in modern biology. As scientists, it is important that we not continue to promote notions that are outdated and inaccurate, but to challenge those perspectives with more recent data and evidence (Miller, 2008).
Michael Starsheen
Reference
Miller, K. R. (2008). Only a theory: Evolution and the battle for America’s soul. New York, NY: Penguin Books.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Mystery of the Spheres Study Guide questions and answers
Study Guide for the Mystery of the Spheres
Yule 2011 (12/21/11) 9PM PST
1. Why is Nuit called “The Mother of the Gods?”
Isis of the Stars Bookstore Nuit is the mother of the Heliopolitan Ennead, e.g., Osiris, Horus the Elder, Set, Isis, and Nephthys. Her husband is Geb, the earth god, and her grandfather is Re, the Sun god. Re forbade her to have her children during any day of the year, so Thoth gambled with Iah, the Moon god, for 5 days outside the calendar year in which the Ennead could be born.
These five days lead up to the beginning of the Egyptian calendar year, and are known as the Epagomenal Days. They bring the calendar up to 365 days from 360. The Egyptians did not adjust their calendar for leap years, but allowed the dates to float.
The Epagomenal Days coincided with the heliacal rising of Sirius at the time of the Summer Solstice during the Old Kingdom when the calendar was constructed, but precession gradually moved the rising away from the agricultural year's beginning. So the Egyptians maintained additional calendars that governed the agricultural year and the civil year, as well as a Sothic year tied to the heliacal rising of Sirius.
Nuit, as sky goddess, is home to Sirius, and the heliacal rising (with the dawn) has Sirius standing out from the red glow preceding sunrise. That glow was considered Nuit's birthing blood when she gave birth to Re each morning at the end of the night.
These five days lead up to the beginning of the Egyptian calendar year, and are known as the Epagomenal Days. They bring the calendar up to 365 days from 360. The Egyptians did not adjust their calendar for leap years, but allowed the dates to float.
The Epagomenal Days coincided with the heliacal rising of Sirius at the time of the Summer Solstice during the Old Kingdom when the calendar was constructed, but precession gradually moved the rising away from the agricultural year's beginning. So the Egyptians maintained additional calendars that governed the agricultural year and the civil year, as well as a Sothic year tied to the heliacal rising of Sirius.
Nuit, as sky goddess, is home to Sirius, and the heliacal rising (with the dawn) has Sirius standing out from the red glow preceding sunrise. That glow was considered Nuit's birthing blood when she gave birth to Re each morning at the end of the night.
Maury White-Hereford Because She is.
December 15 at 11:47am · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore <grin> That's as good an answer as any, Maury!
2. Why is Nuit called “the Great Deep,” and “the Celestial Abyss?”
Isis of the Stars Bookstore Nuit is called "the Great Deep" from her part as one of Thoth's Ogdoad (group of 8) assistants in creating the world. In this myth, Nut is the female counterpart of Nu or Nun, the watery abyss/matrix from which Thoth raises the mound of Earth on which Re is born for the first time.
She is called "The Celestial Abyss" because she holds the souls of the sacred dead within her body, giving light through the darkness of night. This sets her watery nature apart from that of Nun, whose darkness is undifferentiated.
She is called "The Celestial Abyss" because she holds the souls of the sacred dead within her body, giving light through the darkness of night. This sets her watery nature apart from that of Nun, whose darkness is undifferentiated.
December 14 at 6:15pm · Like
Maury White-Hereford A couple of things, just off the top of my head. The mound of earth (that suggested the pyramid form) could also be a pregnant earth, which resonates with your suggestion about the souls of the dead in Her body, but also could be considered Her womb to give birth to the dead and staring the Karmic cycle.
December 15 at 8:25am · Like
3.
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Isis of the Stars Bookstore Nuit's hieroglyphic symbol (o), a water jar, is also supposed to symbolize the womb. So that's a pretty rich and valid observation, Maury.
December 16 at 2:01pm ·
Isis of the Stars Bookstore I think that you may be right about Egyptian thought on birth and death, Maury. It certainly makes sense in light of Lady Olivia's Awakening of Osiris mystery drama, the one preceding this one. If our entry into the physical world represents "death" from the spirit world and movement into a physical sarcophagus, as in Awakening, then our "death" out of the physical world and rejoining with the spirits in the Duat would indeed represent our "birth." I have a particular fondness for the idea of living as a star in the body of Nuit.
Monday at 9:41am ·
4.
Isis of the Stars Bookstore Since Nuit is the watery matrix in which all things manifest, she corresponds to Da'ath in the Qabalah. Her husband, Geb, as Earth god most likely corresponds to Malkuth, and her father, Re, to Kether—as prime motivator. Or one could see the correspondence of Nuit to Kether as Sky goddess to Geb's Earth god, but I think that's a weaker analogy.
December 14 at 6:18pm · Like
Maury White-Hereford I think you are right about the analogy. Nut could not be considered the "first swerlings" but the place of the "first swerinlings." But, I think the Q. is not a required landscape to discus this. I don't think we have to look much further than the idea that the spheres are contained in Her body (sky). But, we can not confuse the container for the creator.
December 15 at 8:44am · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore So, perhaps the spheres are the sky, the Moon, the Earth, and the Duat? Based on the text and the Goddesses invoked in it, that would explain the "world of the shades" comment above, as well.
December 16 at 2:00pm · Like
5.
Maury White-Hereford That makes more sense. I am still having a hard time "feeling" Nuit as the Earth Mother. Ok If Nuit is the space between the Earth and the Nun then the earth is contained in Her womb. Sallie Ann Glassman did a painting of Yemaya in which the planet was contained in her womb. We again have the correspondence of Nun = water.
December 17 at 8:05am ·
Isis of the Stars Bookstore And Nuit is a form of water as the waters of the womb, and its container. Her hieroglyphic symbol is a water pot that also stands for the womb. So the painting of Yemaya you describe would be appropriate.
December 17 at 12:07pm ·
6.
Presumably Kether and Malkuth. The father referred to in the text is most likely a representation of the patriarchal "sky Father" gods that have ruled since the time of ancient Egypt's fall.
The Earth mother is the sky Father's counterpart, certainly by the Greek times corresponding to Gaia.
The Earth mother is the sky Father's counterpart, certainly by the Greek times corresponding to Gaia.
December 14 at 6:21pm · Like
Maury White-Hereford I am going to have to come back to this. I think trying to place these ideas on the Tree maybe forcing a connection. The Q. is a much later system and whereas they can dovetail because Hebrew Esoterisism is influenced by Egyptian thought I am not sure that using it as a correspondence does not short circuit/restrict exploration. In other words I am not at all sure that Nut had the Q. in mind when She transmitted this info. to Olivia. But, I will be considering this.
December 15 at 9:17am · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore If you read the ritual, it is clear that the spheres she refers to are the Qabalah. Maybe in an elder form, as Olivia used the alchemical texts written by St. Germain as a basis for the ritual, and I suspect those texts were incorporated into the Qabalah.
In any case, my comments reflect my own experience with the ritual over the years.
December 17 at 8:07am · Like
6.
Top of Form
Isis of the Stars Bookstore See question #4's answer. Presumably Kether and Malkuth. The father referred to in the text is most likely a representation of the patriarchal "sky Father" gods that have ruled since the time of ancient Egypt's fall.
The Earth mother is the sky Father's counterpart, certainly by the Greek times corresponding to Gaia.
The Earth mother is the sky Father's counterpart, certainly by the Greek times corresponding to Gaia.
December 14 at 6:21pm · Like
Maury White-Hereford I am going to have to come back to this. I think trying to place these ideas on the Tree maybe forcing a connection. The Q. is a much later system and whereas they can dovetail because Hebrew Esoterisism is influenced by Egyptian thought I am not sure that using it as a correspondence does not short circuit/restrict exploration. In other words I am not at all sure that Nut had the Q. in mind when She transmitted this info. to Olivia. But, I will be considering this.
December 15 at 9:17am · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore If you read the ritual, it is clear that the spheres she refers to are the Qabalah. Maybe in an elder form, as Olivia used the alchemical texts written by St. Germain as a basis for the ritual, and I suspect those texts were incorporated into the Qabalah.
In any case, my comments reflect my own experience with the ritual over the years.
In any case, my comments reflect my own experience with the ritual over the years.
December 16 at 1:57pm · Like
Maury White-Hereford I will do that, thanks.
December 17 at 8:07am · Like
7.
Isis of the Stars Bookstore Persephone, obviously, is the Greek goddess married to Hades, lord of the underworld. Here, she is a counterpart of Isis and Nephthys, Goddesses who attend Osiris in the Duat. They stand as the double Ma'ati behind his seat of judgment, where the souls are weighed.
Persephone bore to Hades a son, Iacchos, who brings light to the underworld. This could correspond to the idea of souls being reborn as stars in the womb of Nuit after death.
In the spheres of the Qabalah, I believe this would correspond to the sephira of Binah, or Understanding, after the initial impulse from Kether is filtered through Chokmah, Wisdom. It is the Wisdom of Osiris in the Judgment that understands when the person is "true of voice and justified," and the power of the Ma'ati to understand the truth that permits the soul to pass onward on its voyage. Could this then correspond to Hades and Persephone in Lady Olivia's ritual thoughts.
Persephone bore to Hades a son, Iacchos, who brings light to the underworld. This could correspond to the idea of souls being reborn as stars in the womb of Nuit after death.
In the spheres of the Qabalah, I believe this would correspond to the sephira of Binah, or Understanding, after the initial impulse from Kether is filtered through Chokmah, Wisdom. It is the Wisdom of Osiris in the Judgment that understands when the person is "true of voice and justified," and the power of the Ma'ati to understand the truth that permits the soul to pass onward on its voyage. Could this then correspond to Hades and Persephone in Lady Olivia's ritual thoughts.
December 16 at 2:09pm · Like
Maury White-Hereford I don't know Michael. I am more inclined to think of Hades in Malkuth, especially if we would consider the "world of the Shades" the Duat or the entrance into and out of life. I would place Osiris in Tipereth. In this case the "weighing of the heart" would seem apt. But, like Isis, Osiris fits all spheres.
December 17 at 8:30am · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore This is true, Isis and Osiris fit all spheres. But we can see them lensed through particular spheres when we use a particular mystery drama. I like your assignment of the sphere of shades as Malkuth, especially in light of your other post describing "death" as the incarnation into a body (the theme of the Awakening of Osiris." Osiris in Tiphareth works as the Heart of the tree of life, and we could consider Thoth/Djehuti as the prime mover in Kether—he's the one who organized the work of the Ogdoad to create the world, of which Nuit was a part.
December 17 at 12:05pm · Like
Maury White-Hereford Yes, I agree about the Rite focusing through a sphere. But, I associate Djhuti with Hod. There is also another idea. I am not sure if it is germain to this discussion. As an ex. , we have Hod (Thoth) and Netzach (Hathor). Two "opposing" points, Truth and Love (Beauty). Maybe the balancing energy (Path), I forgot the card, that runs between them (or any Path between the Sephira) is the "Music of the Spheres." I bring this up, because this is part of the exp. Daniel and I had when we did this Rite on the Lunar eclipse in Dec. last year. Although, at that time I did not associate it in just this way.
Sunday at 1:17am · Like
Maury White-Hereford I can see your assignment of Thoth as prime mover, but that is the sphere of concept not application, as are all the top three. As we move down the Tree we pick up form, just as we move down through the planes picking the mummy wrappings of the physical body.
Sunday at 1:23am · Like
Maury White-Hereford Again, I think this brings us to the idea of incarnating through Malkuth, the world of shades.
Sunday at 1:24am · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore Exactly! Djehuti provides the primal sound/DNA for the universe to unfold as it should. The Ogdoad condition the plasma to make the singularity that explodes to become the Big Bang. They are male and female counterparts, Chokmah and Binah. The movement induced by the Great Word, spoken by Djehuti causes the bang to begin, then conditions the expanding plasma to form the physical stars and galaxies and worlds. (Scientists have actually detected compression waves/sound waves/within the primordial plasma causing some areas to be denser and some thinner. This generated stars and so forth as gravity took over from the other three strong forces.)
Sunday at 6:42pm via · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore Tiphareth is Beauty, I thought. Netzach is something else. Ma'at is Truth, not Djehuti.
Sunday at 6:43pm via · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore I checked the main meanings of each of the Sephirah: Kether (crown), Chokmah (Wisdom), Binah (Understanding), Geburah (Severity), Chesed (Mercy), Tiphareth (Beauty), Netzach (Victory), Hod (Majesty), Yesod (Foundation), Malkuth (Kingdom). Hod can also mean "Praise" or "Splendor," and Netzach can also mean "Eternity" or "Endurance."
Tiphareth also translates to "Sprituality, Balance," or "Integration."
Tiphareth also translates to "Sprituality, Balance," or "Integration."
Sunday at 6:59pm · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore Geburah can also be translated as "Judgment" or "strength," and Chesed as "Kindness" or "Love." So here you might see Osiris and Isis paired, or Horus and Hathor, who are paired counterparts. (Hathor's Egyptian name, "Het Heru," means the "House of Horus," or the sun's path through the sky over the course of a day.)
I admit that I'm working on more traditional assignments of the meanings for the Sephirah than Crowley's, but I think we may be speaking a little at cross-purposes, Maury.
And I do agree that the world of shades is Malkuth, at least relative to this ritual.
What do you think of Nuit as being the sphere of Da'ath?
I admit that I'm working on more traditional assignments of the meanings for the Sephirah than Crowley's, but I think we may be speaking a little at cross-purposes, Maury.
And I do agree that the world of shades is Malkuth, at least relative to this ritual.
What do you think of Nuit as being the sphere of Da'ath?
Sunday at 7:02pm · Like
Maury White-Hereford thanks for the clarifications.
Monday at 10:03am · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore You're welcome. I get confused easily, so I keep a *LOT* of references handy. I've been reading my way through St. Germain's Most Holy Trinosophia all afternoon today.
Monday at 1:06pm · Like
9.
Demophöon was the prince at Eleusis whom Demeter tried to make immortal in the fire by burning away his mortal parts, but was stopped by his mother's fear. This is symbolic of an alchemical transformation, in which the soul is heated and "processed" by different methods to purify and refine away the mortal dross that holds us back from enlightenment.
Demeter went on to teach Demophöon the magic of the seeds and the grain, how to plant and reap a harvest, and this became the basis for the Cult of Eleusis.
Demeter went on to teach Demophöon the magic of the seeds and the grain, how to plant and reap a harvest, and this became the basis for the Cult of Eleusis.
Monday at 11:23pm · Like
10.
Isis of the Stars Bookstore The veil represents their uninitiated blindness to the truth, and the golden bough is the price for entering the underworld that Virgil, and then Dante provide to be allowed to enter. Some believe that the actual golden bough is a sprig of mistletoe, which remains golden-green even in the depths of winter.
Monday at 11:24pm · Like
11.
To quote the analysis of _The Most Holy Trinosophia_ in the Forgotten Books edition:
"After a great distance the passage ends in a square room from which lead four doors. This is the Hall of Choosing. The doors signify the courses which the soul can pursue. The black door is the path of asceticism and labor; the red door is that of faith, the blue door is that of purification, and the white door is that of adeptship and the highest Mysteries. In the Bhagavad-Gita, Krishna describes these paths and those who follow them, and reveals that the last is the highest and most perfect.
The neophyte enters through the black door of asceticism and labor, and is about to pass through the red door of enlightened love when it closes upon him. He then turns to the door of purification and sacrifice, but this will not receive him. Then the [crystal] star, the symbol of his essential daemon or genius, darts through the white door. Fate has decreed adeptship. The neophyte follows his star.
The alchemical significance of the account reveals that at the beginning of the Great Work, the power of choice is given to the operator, that he may decide the end to which his labor shall be directed. The black door represents the making of material gold; the red door the Universal Medicine for the healing of the nations; the blue door the Elixir of LIfe, and the white door the Philosopher's Stone. From the door which is chosen we discover that aspect of the Great Work which our author contemplates."
"After a great distance the passage ends in a square room from which lead four doors. This is the Hall of Choosing. The doors signify the courses which the soul can pursue. The black door is the path of asceticism and labor; the red door is that of faith, the blue door is that of purification, and the white door is that of adeptship and the highest Mysteries. In the Bhagavad-Gita, Krishna describes these paths and those who follow them, and reveals that the last is the highest and most perfect.
The neophyte enters through the black door of asceticism and labor, and is about to pass through the red door of enlightened love when it closes upon him. He then turns to the door of purification and sacrifice, but this will not receive him. Then the [crystal] star, the symbol of his essential daemon or genius, darts through the white door. Fate has decreed adeptship. The neophyte follows his star.
The alchemical significance of the account reveals that at the beginning of the Great Work, the power of choice is given to the operator, that he may decide the end to which his labor shall be directed. The black door represents the making of material gold; the red door the Universal Medicine for the healing of the nations; the blue door the Elixir of LIfe, and the white door the Philosopher's Stone. From the door which is chosen we discover that aspect of the Great Work which our author contemplates."
Monday at 11:41pm · Like
12.
According to the Analysis of _The Most Holy Trinosophia_ by Forgotten Books, the woman in the painting "...is Isis in her role as Initiatrix. She is Nature, and her black skirt is the corporeal world by which part of her body is concealed. The naked man is the neophyte. Unclothed he came into the world and unclothed he must be born again....The objects lying upon [the table] or held by Isis, are three of the suit symbols which appear upon the Tarot cards...The cup is the symbol of water, the spearhead of fire and the wand of air. Fire, air, and water are the symbols of the great Magical Agent. Their names in Hebrew are Chamah, Ruach, and Majim, and by the Cabbala the first letter of each of these words—Ch, R, and M—constitute Chiram, known to the Freemasons as Hiram. This is the invisible essence which is the father of the four elements, and designates itself Chiram Telat Mechasot—Chiram the Universal Agent, one in essence, three in aspect, in which is hidden the wisdom of the whole world."
"The Hebrew characters in the panel above the head of Isis are translated: 'On account of distress they shall cling to the Bestower,' which means that those (the wise) who have become wearied with worldliness shall turn to wisdom, the bestower of all good things."
"The Hebrew characters in the panel above the head of Isis are translated: 'On account of distress they shall cling to the Bestower,' which means that those (the wise) who have become wearied with worldliness shall turn to wisdom, the bestower of all good things."
Monday at 11:56pm · Like
13.
Isis of the Stars Bookstore See question #12. The Cup is water, the lance-head is fire, and the wand Isis holds is Air. To the alchemists, these are the three primal elements from which corporeal manifestation descends.
Monday at 11:57pm · Like
14. Demophöon
Isis of the Stars Bookstore Given that Demeter sought to burn away the impurities of mortality and purify the child Demophöon in the nursery fireplace, Truth is probably symbolized by the Air/purification aspect, Love by the Fire, and the ultimate immortal, enlightened being by Harmony.
Monday at 11:59pm · Like
15.
Isis of the Stars Bookstore This is where the Mystery of the Spheres skips most of the steps in the alchemical process from _The Most Holy Trinosophia_. Essentially, the circular vessel in which the candidate finds himself is the interior of the athanor, or alchemical oven, in which he will be washed three times with different solutions to purify his soul. This occurs in the sign of Libra, signifying the restoration of the balance.
Yesterday at 12:06am · Like
16.
Isis of the Stars Bookstore The initiate's robe was originally of white linen, when he entered at Vesuvius. After the purification of water, salt, and putrefaction in Libra, Scorpio, and Sagittarius:
"After leaving the house of putrefaction the Initiate observes that his robe changes color, becoming at last a beautiful green. This is a direct allusion to the alchemical formula. We are told that during the processes of digestion the alchemical substance changes color, which has given rise to its being called the peacock because of its iridescence during one of the periods of its digestion. The various colored garments worn by the several degrees of the ancient priestcrafts represented stages of spiritual unfoldment. According to the same rule, in the preparation of the Wise Man's Stone the base substance passes through a philosophical spectrum, turning from one color to another according to the end which the operator desires to achieve.
"After leaving the house of putrefaction the Initiate observes that his robe changes color, becoming at last a beautiful green. This is a direct allusion to the alchemical formula. We are told that during the processes of digestion the alchemical substance changes color, which has given rise to its being called the peacock because of its iridescence during one of the periods of its digestion. The various colored garments worn by the several degrees of the ancient priestcrafts represented stages of spiritual unfoldment. According to the same rule, in the preparation of the Wise Man's Stone the base substance passes through a philosophical spectrum, turning from one color to another according to the end which the operator desires to achieve.
In the last stage, where the garment transforms from green to brilliant red, the Initiate has once again entered "a crystal retort resting in a sand furnace which keeps it constantly at a gentle heat. The name of the hall is 'A place where drops trickle.' The basin sustaining it is 'the desert of blazing fire,' or 'the agent which enables the drops to escape.' From the bottom of the glass retort, vapors are constantly ascending. The adept is lifted up, and after thirty-six days is borne to the upper part of the globe. The heat being reduced, he descends and discovers that the color of his garment has changed from green to brilliant red. 'The solution in the alchemical retort, if digested a certain length of time, will turn into a red elixir, which is callled the Universal Medicine. It resembles a fiery water, and is luminous in the dark.'...The adept himself is now the Universal Medicine...His crimson garment is the vestment of the Red Elixir."
Yesterday at 12:19am · Like
Isis of the Stars Bookstore This stage reflects the completion of the alchemical journey, where the initiate encounters the philosophical sun.
Yesterday at 12:20am · Like
17.
Isis of the Stars Bookstore The warrior is the Initiate himself at this final state. The white wand he carries is his badge of office, the baton of the adept. The blue garment showing through his armor is his starry cloak, gained back many steps ago.
Yesterday at 12:23am · Like
18.
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